The French connection
by dantemalfoy
Summary: Draco/Harry slash, mature content. After Eighth Year, the Trio take a vacation.
1. Chapter 1

"Do you have the Portkey, Ron?" Hermione sighed wearily, hoping the summer vacation would lift Harry's mood.

"It's over there," Ron said absently, pointing to the shelf which had the least books.

Hermione walked towards her personal library, hoping Ron hadn't decided to transform one of her favourite books into a Portkey.

"It's the bookend shaped like a gargoyle."

"Thanks." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "You've packed all your things?"

She fingered the sharp edge of the wooden beak as she hefted the menacing-looking bookend, and walked to the sofa.

"Yeah, mostly." Ron looked up from the _Daily Prophet_ and gazed at his girlfriend. "Hope the vacation does Harry good."

She took out her wand and waved it at the gargoyle, checking that it would really transport them to Provence. Harry's admirers were not above playing dastardly tricks.

"So do I," she said shortly whilst she stabbed the wand at the bookend and cast her spell. "It's quite strange, isn't it? Harry should be eagerly looking forward to Auror training. Maybe he feels lonely?"

"Don't think so," mumbled Ron as he glared at the photo of Victor Krum, preening at him on top of his broom. "Neville drops by frequently; Dean and Seamus too, and Luna and her friends."

Ron read the headline, mumbling low under his breath, "Krum set to lead Bulgaria to win the Quidditch World Cup!"

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," he answered as he laid the newspaper on the floor. He hoped Krum's smirking face would soak up the bit of tea he'd spilt earlier, but the Bulgarian Seeker made him think about Durmstrang.

"Reckon Malfoy speaks German now," he said loudly as he crossed his arms. "Or whatever language they speak at that school!"

"Perhaps." Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. "You remember after the trials? I told you Andromeda received an owl from her sister; Narcissa wrote that she and Draco were moving to the Continent. She hinted Draco would finish his schooling there."

"And learn more Dark Magic," huffed Ron.

Hermione thwacked his shoulder. "We testified for him at his trial, remember?"

The redhead grinned widely. "The smarmy git even thanked me! Should've taken a photo."

* * *

oOoOo

The girl laid her hand on her chic robe as she whispered huskily in Harry's ear, "J'attends votre plaisir, Monsieur Potter."

She walked away, swaying her hips whilst she looked back at Harry with a flirtatious glint in her eyes.

Harry shuddered. She was pretty, slim and blonde. Her hair appeared to be woven out of silky strands of wheat; it was the wrong shade of blond though, not platinum enough. Besides, Cecily - or whatever her name - was the wrong sex.

"What did she say?" He raised his eyebrows at Hermione, who was staring with dismay at the dilapidated villa near Antibes. Her father had recommended it, and she mused that the restoration of his memory hadn't been quite successful.

She looked sideways at Harry. "Cécile looks forward to hearing from you; I know you prefer blokes, but we could use her help."

"Bollocks! I've watched mom enough times," Ron said loudly. He took out his wand and pointed it at the crumbling wall which was covered with moss. The redhead shuddered because that shade reminded him of the slick skin of the odious Nagini.

Hermione exchanged a look with Harry, and both friends shrugged. If Ron's spells turned out to be less than adequate, they would have to contact the coquettish witch.

* * *

oOoOo

"You're bored, Harry?" Ron muttered; he eyed hungrily the creamy fish soup, his nostrils flaring wide as he breathed the garlic scent.

"Reckon I miss something," Harry said whilst he looked at the passersby. Hermione had insisted they had to come to Cannes. She'd been here before with her parents, and she gushed all afternoon about the city and the film festival until the men relented. She had hinted what Harry needed was an entertaining film.

Truth to tell, what Harry missed was the sarcastic tongue of his arch-rival. The way his heart pulsed faster when he looked at that mop of blond hair. He had thought that with the war over and the Malfoys cleared, Draco would return to Hogwarts for their Eighth Year. In vain, as it turned out to be. No sign of Draco in the Hogwarts Express, no platinum-blond hair to distract him, and no barbed remarks to lighten up his days.

In the aftermath of the war, Harry had realised that all his fights with Draco were mere posturing; that the blond had been relentlessly trapped by his family's past just like Harry was caught by the Prophecy. He had wanted to tell Draco this, but now he doubted he would ever see the blond again and that made his heart heavier.

Meanwhile, Hermione looked up from her glossy tourist guide, her eyes glittering with curiosity. She said brightly, "Let's go to _La Malmaison_!"

"Another museum?" Harry scrunched up his face. "Reckon I've had my share of them. I'll wait for you at the villa."

"Actually, I don't want…" Ron shivered at the glare his girlfriend was directing at him. Finally, he gulped and pushed away the empty plate. "… any more food."

He waved at the Nicean salad. "But I'll finish this, all right?"

"Fine, Ron," muttered Hermione as she bent down to pick up her bag. She rummaged inside for her notebook, mentally planning which exhibits to see first.

* * *

oOoOo

Harry meandered through the streets of the French city; his hands stuck in the pockets of his woollen trousers. He looked down at the wet cobblestones which were as grey as his mood. He sighed, regretting the lost opportunities he'd never have to act on his attraction for his erstwhile rival. Looking around the bustling street, he squinted at the concrete facades of the buildings. On a rounded curve he stood still and stared at the lettering above the glass display which said _'Boucheron'. _The jewel that was set prominently on a silver collar behind the thick glass reminded Harry of Draco's eyes, sparkling angrily at him.

The brunet sighed wistfully and hunched up his shoulders, snuggling into his cardigan. Despite his pensive mood, it felt good to walk amongst the Muggles unrecognised, without wizards shouting for his autograph.

Harry continued his lonely walk, gazing up every now and then at the tall palm trees which swayed slightly in the strong wind. The light drizzle didn't bother him; he was used to worse weather during the hunt for the Horcruxes.

Lost in memories of his school years, Harry lost track of where he was. At any rate, if he got tired he could Apparate and be safely ensconced in the restored villa.

Harry looked up at the stormy sky and decided to ride out the approaching rain by taking shelter under an awning; it was full with people who were waiting to see a movie. He fingered the hawthorn wand on his arm holster, seemingly the only souvenir left of his blond classmate. Before he could return it, the Malfoys had left Britain.

A tall, paunchy man jostled him; Harry looked at the elegantly-dressed fellow who started asking questions in rapid French. The brunet shook his head and spread his hands, indicating he couldn't understand.

"Still clueless as ever, I see." Harry jerked his head when he heard the drawling voice that haunted his dreams, and turned towards his left. There, standing next to a huge movie poster, was Malfoy.

Harry's breath hitched; Draco was dressed in an elegant black suit and shirt whose topmost buttons were undone, revealing the enticing expanse of pale chest. Draco's left hand was stuck inside his trousers as he smirked at Harry like the intervening year had been a dream. Harry's mouth watered at the contrast between the dark attire and the smooth, porcelain skin and blond mop of hair.

"Kneazle got your tongue?" said Draco as he sauntered towards Harry; then he spoke in fluid French to the portly man who shrugged and went on his way.

Harry cocked his head towards the Frenchman. "What did he want?"

"One of your admirers," said Draco slowly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Wanted your autograph but told him you were here incognito."

"Thanks."

"You'll have to owl him one, I'm afraid," drawled Draco as he extended his hand.

Harry smiled widely and shook the proffered hand. "What are you doing here?"

Draco waved at the street. "I'm taking a vacation. Beauxbatons' schedule was gruelling."

"Reckoned you were at Durmstrang!"

"Mother hates that school. She and I decided that returning to Hogwarts would be… awful."Draco started walking down the street and Harry followed suit.

"There was animosity, I reckon."

"Instead we returned to our ancestral chateau in Picardy." Draco took out his mother's wand and discreetly cast the _Impervius_ charm on both of them; after pocketing the wand he went on, "I do intend to return to Britain after things settle down a bit."

Harry looked sideways at the blond; he couldn't take his eyes off of him, his gaze was drawn to the pale eyes whose shade matched the cloudy sky over Cannes. He decided to rile up Draco, so he wiggled his eyebrows at him. "Thought Beauxbatons was only for girls?"

"Are you barmy?" Draco smirked. "Don't you remember the boys that came over during the Tournament?" He nudged Harry's shoulder and leered insinuatingly, "I can prove to you that I'm all boy."

Harry blushed and turned to study a particularly squat palm frond. Draco's teasing made his blood flow south and he was a tad embarrassed.

* * *

oOoOo

They spent the rest of the day strolling around the French city; talking about their differing experiences during the last year led inexorably to their role in the war.

Because Harry had seen most of Draco's suffering due to his connection to Voldemort, he could offer sympathy in what he hoped was a gruff, manly way. On his part, Draco listened avidly to Harry's exploits as the trio camped in the woods.

The evening ended in Draco's apartment; he had invited his new friend over for a snack, though his flirting indicated he was interested in much more.

Later, Harry wouldn't remember exactly the delicious dishes the blond served with a swish of his wand; taste and scents melded in his mind, together with the sound of Draco's soft drawl. The two exchanged innuendo which made Harry blush most of the time, though he decidedly held his own.

Their gazes grew more heated after Draco lazily offered a glass of Chablis to Harry. Seeing Harry eyeing warily the huge glass, Draco taunted him. "Scared, Potter?"

"You wish!" growled Harry as he drank up the wine; the brisk, refreshing acidity travelling from his mouth down his throat. When Draco refilled his own glass, Harry determinedly did the same, matching him.

They ended up sprawled naked on the rug of the living room; its rough texture against his back made Harry squirm. Draco crouched above him; his hands caressed Harry's calves, fingertips grazing the inside of his knees as he spread them.

"Harry, I've wanted this for so long," said Draco with a catch in his voice. "Do you…"

"Want you?" growled Harry as he hooked his ankles around Draco's waist. "Course I do; missed you all year at Hogwarts, you bloody git!"

Harry moaned when he felt Draco's wet cockhead prodding against his crack. The blond paused and frowned at Harry, eyeing hungrily the sweaty chest which glinted in the candlelight. "You've ever done this?"

"Never, I wanted someone special."

"Are you sure?" Draco's tentativeness, though endearing, was making Harry quite impatient.

"Are you going to shag me or ask questions all night?" Harry said as he waved his hand and cast a wandless spell that decreased friction. He recalled Ron complaining bitterly about rug burn; Harry had begged him to shut up, not wanting to know about the sexual escapades of his friends.

Meanwhile, Draco searched for his wand which was prodded against a leg of the couch and cast the _Lubricus_ spell on his throbbing shaft; then he nudged his partner's entrance with the cold, slick tip. Harry squirmed at the uncomfortable squishy feeling of the lube coating his walls.

Draco gently took off Harry's glasses and put them on the couch, so all the brunet could see was a blob of blond hair above him as Draco pushed his glans inside the slick hole.

Harry grimaced at the initial pain of the stretch; nevertheless, he wrapped his arms around Draco's back and pulled him closer.

Draco pushed inside slowly, too gently for Harry, who jerked his hips backward to impale himself on the thick cock. He was used to pain and he needed to feel Draco inside, to be one with the boy who had been his crush for far too long.

They lay still for a while until Harry got used to the girth stretching his insides. When Draco squirmed atop him, his cockhead rubbed against Harry's prostate which caused him to whimper.

Emboldened by the obvious signs of pleasure, Draco took out his shaft slowly, grunting when Harry squeezed all around him. He laid his palms flat on the rug to support his weight as he started fucking Harry in earnest.

"Faster, you git," grunted Harry as he pushed up his hips. Draco was too engrossed in the exquisite feeling of Harry all around him to snark back. Instead he leaned down and kissed those full lips, trapping his moans as Harry's tongue probed his mouth lazily.

Draco rammed his hips into Harry's pliant body, knowing he wouldn't last long. His slender fingers sought Harry's prick and he closed his fingers around it, fisting it and twirling his thumb around the swollen cockhead.

Harry moaned at the thick shaft spearing him so deliciously, jabbing his prostate repeatedly. Overcome by the sensations inside him and around his shaft, he came into Draco's fist. The thick seed spilled down his abs into the rug. Harry clenching around him was more than Draco could stand; he shouted as he released his seed inside the warm body. He rocked his hips back and forth a few times before disengaging with a lewd popping sound.

Draco grabbed blindly for his wand and Apparated them to the bedroom. The two wizards were exhausted from the exciting day which had ended so pleasurably and quickly fell asleep; Draco snuggled against Harry's tanned back.

* * *

oOoOo

Harry dressed silently at the crack of dawn, unsure if he should have stayed at Draco's overnight. The shag had been out of this world but he doubted the blond, given his reputation at Hogwarts, wanted something more.

As he stood up and prepared to Apparate, Harry felt cold fingers wrap around his leg.

"Where do you think you're going, Harry?" Draco said in a sleepy voice.

"To the villa we rented."

The blond stretched lazily on the bed, looking up at Harry with a calculating expression. "Don't you want to see more of Cannes?"

"Err…"

"We could travel through the south of France, you know." Draco wiggled his eyebrows at him. "I know the perfect beaches for nude bathing."

Harry ruffled his hair and sighed. "I'll have to return to London for Auror training, and I'm afraid you'll go your way."

Draco snorted. "Whilst we travel, you can tell me what has gone on back home." He scratched his lean chest. "I won't ever let you go, Potter. Might even return with you because the Malfoys are quite possessive."

After all the pain he endured in the war - losing so many loved ones - it was right that Harry should pamper himself, right?

Harry grinned widely at the look in Draco's eyes which promised adventure, fun, and love.

..


	2. Chapter 2

_**Warning:** NC-17_

* * *

Ron squinted at Harry from behind his glass of Chianti. "So you're telling me you're leaving us to go with Malfoy?"

Harry nodded guiltily. "He invited me to tour the south of France."

"Actually, that's a great idea!" Hermione piped up; she was at the window and watched intently the field outside. "I might even join you! I want to visit so many towns to absorb firsthand their ancient history!"

"Mmh..." Harry bit his lip; judging from Draco's naughty words, going to museums was the last thing in the Slytherin's mind. Harry's arousal twitched when he recalled what Draco whispered in his ear before he returned to the rented villa. _'Tell Granger to research a spell so sand won't stick to us. We'll need it.' _

"Come on, Mione!" huffed Ron, spearing the black olive on top of the enticing onion pie; his nostrils flared as he inhaled the spicy scent coming from the dish. "Malfoy's a git! Reckon he has no patience for all your museums, paintings and boring..."

Ron trailed off when he heard Hermione growling softly whilst she ominously tapped her boot against the wooden floor.

"… food we have to eat," finished Ron in a low voice, looking with longing at the last anchovy before spearing it.

"Whatever," Hermione huffed, scowling at the verdant field outside. "You do have a point because I frankly doubt Malfoy's taste is palatable to me. He probably wants to visit the sites of gruesome battles."

Harry smiled secretly at his best friends. They obviously had no idea how much Draco had changed.

Meanwhile, Hermione hastily took out her wand and cast a spell.

"What did you do?" Harry said.

She cocked her head at the panelled window. "Those pesky French gnomes. They don't understand and keep stealing the apples!"

"Apples?" Harry scratched his head. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you!" Hermione tapped the windowsill. "After Ron and I came back from Cannes, we found the south wall had crumbled to the ground. The spells couldn't hold it for long."

"Oi, don't blame me!" Ron took a sip from his glass of wine. "Reckon Roman wizards must've built those things; they're as old as Merlin himself!" He mumbled, "Mom's spells can only do so much, you know?"

"Anyway," Hermione said, "We vanished the wall and found out that Cécile's villa has an apple orchard. She said her family has a cider house which is quite renowned around these parts. It's harvest time, though, and the gnomes are hungry for apples!"

Harry raised his eyebrows at his best friend and Ron shrugged. "Mione and the French girl are thick as thieves, mate. Turns out she speaks English and they found something in common: they both worship that hulking Muggle bloke, Rambo."

"He was a poet, not a hulking bloke!" Hermione said, her voice rising in indignation. "For your information, Ron, both Cécile Fouinon and I enjoy Arthur Rimbaud's poetry! She lent me the mint edition of his first book."

Ron turned to his friend and rolled his eyes. "Reckon you're better off with Malfoy, mate." He slouched on his chair, sighing at the empty plate in front of him. "At least you'll visit interesting, bloody places. Mione and I are going to this bloke's museum in..."

"Charleville, Ron." Hermione said absently whilst she squinted at the window, fingering her wand in case another stealing gnome showed up.

"We'll be there for three days," said Ron with a sigh.

* * *

oOoOo

"Draco, I should hope you will return to the chateau. It's been quite lonely without you." Narcissa smiled sweetly at her son, nodding proudly at him. The slight tan lending colour to Draco's face suggested the Mediterranean climate agreed with him.

"I have other pursuits at the moment, Mother." Draco fiddled nervously with the basket on the table. "There's something I must tell you."

He hunched his shoulders, unsure how his mother would take the news of him and Harry hooking up. Lucius often hinted he should provide them with a grandson. If things went like Draco expected, that desire would not be realised soon, if ever.

"Dear son, you can say anything, just do not tell me that suddenly you decided to follow your father's footsteps and become embroiled in Dark Magic." Narcissa brushed her fingers against the veil covering her brow. She grinned, recalling Draco's flattering remark about her new hat.

"Nothing of the sort, Mother." Draco turned to smile weakly at his mother. "It's quite simple, actually." He took a deep breath and said, "I have a lover."

"Do tell, who is it? That cute brunet you had a crush on last year? Draco, why are you so flustered?" Narcissa peered at her son and reached her hand to touch his blushing cheek, whispering, "That lovely shade of red doesn't happen often. Only when you rant about Harry Potter."

Draco gulped whilst his fingers tapped against the tablecloth. "I met Harry in Cannes." He smiled fondly when he recalled his excitement at meeting Harry there, of all places. "He was lost and didn't understand a word of French. Had to rescue him, and I promised him a tour of southern France."

"Of course you had to rescue him, dear." Narcissa said softly whilst the corner of her lips tugged upward in a smirk. "I seem to recall that's been your fantasy ever since you were a child."

"Mother!" Draco said sharply, averting his eyes. Sometimes he preferred his father's sneers to Narcissa's snarky remarks.

"You should bring Mr. Potter to the chateau. I'm sure he'd love it there!"

He snorted. "I rather doubt Harry and Father would tolerate each other; they'd be at each other's throats."

"Your father has mellowed, though I'll admit he gets obsessed over the most insane things."

"Like his peacocks." Draco sneered.

"I'm afraid the poor birds did not recover completely after Lucius smuggled them out of Britain." Narcissa sighed. "He is not good at Transfiguration; Lucius never paid enough attention in Minerva's classes."

"I'll have to cut it short, Mother," Draco said, after casting a hasty Tempus. "I have to meet Harry; our Portkey will activate in one hour."

Narcissa went to the French windows and stared at the Cannes skyline. "Give my regards to Harry. You're welcome at the chateau if you two should get weary of your travels." She motioned to the basket on the centre of the table. "Share this with him, will you? There's plenty of Chocolate Frogs."

Draco stared sharply at his mother. "How do you know Harry likes them?" Due to the time he'd spent Potter-watching at Hogwarts, he was well acquainted with the Gryffindor's tastes, but he couldn't imagine how his mother knew that fact about Harry.

She walked to the centre of the living room and nudged the brim of her hat. "A little bird told me."

"What bird?"

"_Au revoir, mon cheri_." Narcissa hastily Apparated before her son could ask any more questions, after all, she didn't want to tip off Miss Granger's hand.

* * *

oOoOo

"I can't do it, Draco." Harry smoothed his hand over his red trunks. "Just can't go starkers in plain daylight."

Draco looked at the bright turquoise sea in front of them; then he took a step back and spread his arms to indicate the lonely beach. "_Plage de Gigaro_ is empty at this hour, Harry. I want you to unwind, to feel the soft caress of the breeze against your body."

Draco hooked his fingers around the waistband of his trunks and shimmied out of them with a rolling motion of his hips which Harry avidly followed.

He sat on the bright green towel and gazed up at Harry. "Are you scared?"

"This time, I may be." Harry nodded sadly and sat beside his lover. "You don't understand what it felt growing up with the Dursleys. Aunt Petunia always, always insisted I had to behave correctly, that I had to act normal. She was deathly afraid of what the neighbours would think."

Harry shrugged and lifted the rim of his glasses with his calloused thumb. "Reckon a part of me still follows her orders."

It drove Harry wild to watch Draco wiggle on the towel; the enticing display of the nude body beside him wasn't enough to overcome his inhibitions, though.

Draco cupped Harry's chin and smiled gently at him. "Believe it or not, I understand you. Actually, it's quite similar to what I feel about Father. I always tried to please him but it was useless because I could never be as strong and perfect as he wanted."

Harry bit his bottom lip. He enjoyed the salty breeze coming from the sea which didn't quite manage to dry the sweat off his body, and the sight of Draco's hair glimmering under the bright sun made his heart beat madly. It wasn't enough to break the tight rules of his upbringing, though, not even the earthy scent of the blond which called to his mind the moment they had made love for the first time.

Harry sighed in disappointment because Vernon and Petunia's cruel treatment appeared to be more lasting than Voldemort's dirty tricks.

Draco's drawl brought Harry out of his pensive thoughts. "Why don't you swim, then?" He smirked whilst he stretched his limbs like a lazy cat; his Slytherin mind knew well what effect it had on Harry.

Harry bit back a moan at the sight of the pale skin displayed so tantalisingly. Gazing at the flat abdomen faintly marred by the _Sectumsempra_ scar, he wanted to kiss it away. Instead, he took off his glasses and put them inside the bag they'd brought, and then he stood up. "Do you want to swim?"

"I'd rather enjoy the view." Draco licked his lips whilst staring at Harry's chest and he felt his cock stirring to life.

Harry waved at Draco and stepped towards the sea. His feet made squelching sounds against the wet sand which made him shudder because they reminded him of their lovemaking. He hoped a good swim would quench his desires.

The Mediterranean felt warm and inviting against his body, quite different from the cold Black Lake when Harry dived to rescue Ron. It was freeing, unlike the constricting pond where he recovered the Sword of Gryffindor.

Harry swam, and the sea helped him forget his troubles for a while: the looming return to London and Auror training, and his uncertain future with Draco.

Whilst Harry swam, Draco had cast a charm to protect his delicate skin against the blazing sun. He followed the Gryffindor's movements, licking his lips at the way Harry´s black hair was plastered to his skull, lending him the quality of a playful seal.

Draco wiggled on the towel and decided he preferred Harry's tousled-haired look.

When Harry stepped out of the sea, Draco's breath caught at the sight of the lean, muscled body. The silhouette of the broad chest which gracefully tapered down to slim hips made him horny, so Draco bent up his leg to hide his arousal because he was mindful of Harry's problem. He drawled, "Won't you lay down?"

Harry crouched above him and scooted away on his knees, laying his body lengthwise on the towel. He cuddled Draco and couldn't help but marvel at how well the slim body fit against him. The contact of the supple skin rubbing against his did nothing to quell Harry's ardour, though.

Draco turned his body and looped his arm around Harry's neck, pulling him nearer. His lips traced Harry's cheek, licking the salty taste of the sea off him. Harry whimpered and Draco used the moment to slip his tongue inside, tracing the smooth teeth and trapping Harry's moans. His wet cock rubbed against Harry's thigh.

Harry broke the kiss to whisper against Draco's cheek. "I want you now; but not here."

Draco wiggled his eyebrows. "Want me to Apparate us to my flat? I can't promise Mother won't intrude; she wants to convince me to go to the chateau."

Harry inched his hand towards the bag and reached for his glasses. "Reckon we'll go to our villa instead."

He wanted to prove to Draco he wasn't that chained by his upbringing. It was just that the beach was too open. Recalling the apple orchard he'd seen through the windows of the villa, he had an idea. He put on his glasses and said roughly, "Can't shag on the open like this, but...you'll see."

Harry wrapped his arms and legs around Draco; his hand clutching the bag as he Apparated them.

Having arrived, Harry gazed up at the apples trees around them; they would provide enough cover.

Draco felt rough ground against his back instead of the flat surface of the beach. He said, wonder tingeing his voice, "You surprise me in so many ways."

Harry had managed to Side-Apparate him and all their things in such a smooth motion Draco hardly felt it. He whimpered at the sight of Harry crouching above him, hooking his thumbs around the waistband of the trunks and pulling them down to his knees, revealing his throbbing cock, slick with precome.

Harry stood up and, in a graceful motion, dragged his trunks down his strong legs.

"I need my wand." Draco said hoarsely, cocking his head at the bag. Harry fished inside but didn't take out any wand. Instead he grabbed a bottle which he opened, upending on his open palm. The thick liquid felt cold against his skin.

Draco raised his eyebrows whilst Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "I want to do things the Muggle way."

Harry shivered as he lubed Draco's shaft, pumping his fist up and down. Then he splayed his hand against Draco's chest and reared up on his knees, canting up his hips whilst his other hand reached below his balls. He rubbed his rim and finally prepped himself.

Draco peered down, entranced by the sight of Harry riding his fingers, and he groaned at the way Harry's rim twitched around the calloused digits. The blond tilted up his chin, drinking the sight of the wet black hair, flat against Harry's head. Draco reached for the bag to grab his wand to conjure a pillow because he was getting a crick on his neck.

Harry held Draco's slippery shaft between his thumb and index, lowering his body slowly until he felt the blunt head rub against his rim. Sighing, his cock throbbed as he sank down on the thick shaft. His ring fluttered against the intrusion until the cockhead breached his entrance completely. Harry flexed his thighs as he controlled his rate of descent, grimacing at the painful burn caused by the stretch. He squeezed gently around the cockhead which made Draco twitch and involuntarily thrust up his hips.

Harry laid his hand on Draco's chest, pushing him down to quell any sudden motion. He rolled his hips, grunting at the fullness rubbing against his walls. He jerked up his hips, flexing his sinewy thighs as he sank down until Draco was sheathed mid-shaft.

Harry bobbed up and down, his engorged prick jerking around, glistening in the sunlight.

Draco groaned when he felt Harry's buttocks flush against his groin. His eyes darkened with desire, Draco licked his lips when he saw the thread of precome connecting Harry's cock with his abdomen.

Harry squirmed on Draco's lap, unconsciously spreading his knees against the towel to grab a better purchase. He raised himself until only the tip of the shaft remained inside him and then sat down in a fluid motion, groaning when he felt the prick rubbing his prostate. Harry fisted his wet cock, knowing he was approaching his climax; he sped his movement up and down, moaning when Draco fucked his hips into him. As his hips pumped up into the wet tightness, Draco grunted whilst his hand caressed Harry's chest and tweaked the perky nubs.

"Going to... come!" Draco babbled, "Come on, ride my cock!"

Harry felt the prick throbbing against his walls, and he tightened his fist around his own shaft when he felt Draco spurting inside him. He grunted and bobbed up and down, climaxing with a shout a few seconds later.

His orgasm was so strong that Harry was hardly aware of the moment they uncoupled, or Draco cleaning them up with a spell.

"Are you all right?" drawled Draco, rubbing Harry's chest. The tenderness apparent in Draco's usually harsh manner made Harry's heart clench.

"I could use a snack." He said, trying to sound nonchalant. He still wasn't quite sure of Draco's feelings about him.

The blond nodded. "Good thinking." He looked at the barrels overflowing with shiny red apples and his eyes narrowed. He had been so enchanted by Harry he hadn't noticed his favourite fruit. Harry groaned when he followed Draco's gaze to the barrelful of apples.

Draco growled and pointed his wand at a gnome who was reaching for those precious fruits. "Oi, you tosser!"

With a practiced swishing move of his wand, he sent flying the poor gnome.

Draco sighed and put on his trunks with regret, toeing on his sandals. He sauntered towards the nearest barrel and chose a particularly big apple, rubbing it against his arm and then biting it with fruition.

Harry put on his trunks and stood up. He felt like smacking his forehead. "So you´re still in love with apples."

"Don't fret, Harry," Draco mumbled between bites. "You will always come before apples."

Harry arched an eyebrow at him. "By the way you're practically making love to that apple, I have my doubts."

"Quelle surprise!" The woman's voice coming from behind the trees startled Draco so much that the half-eaten apple almost slipped from his fingers.

The slim, blond witch walked towards them. "Harry, it's a pleasure seeing you here! We've just finished bottling half the harvest, so I took the liberty of sending you a few bottles as a housewarming gift."

"Thank you!" Harry beamed at the witch. "Very nice of you."

She stretched her hand towards Draco, "'ello, I'm Cécile Fouinon."

"Draco Malfoy," he squeezed gently the girl's hand. "You seem familiar. Have I seen you somewhere?"

"You may have, Draco. Your mother invited me to her latest soirée."

"It's a nice coincidence."

* * *

oOoOo

Draco sipped the fluted glass filled with cider, enjoying its taste upon his tongue whilst he smiled at Harry, who was staring at his drink.

"I didn't like the look of this Cécile." Harry muttered, "Reminded me of Romilda Vane."

"You're wrong," Draco said. "Vane isn't devious enough. This witch has the air of Pansy trying to pull a fast one on me."

"Well, it doesn't matter." Harry toasted Draco with his glass. "Here's to rivals becoming friends."

Draco looked into Harry's green eyes and took a deep breath. "I want more than friendship with you, Harry. Always have. I'm willing to return home if you're with me. I want the future; will you share it with me?"

Harry beamed at him. "I reckon that would be acceptable."

"Cheers." Draco canted his glass slightly so it clinked against Harry's. He gulped down the rest of his drink and cupped Harry's chin, leaning forward until he could share the drink and a kiss.

Harry shivered because the bubbly effervescence of cider in his mouth felt like Draco's mercurial temper; it fizzed briefly but left a strong taste like his lover's kisses. Sharp against his tongue, it was like Draco's wit. Cider smelled like apples and things ever green, akin to the sweetness he had newly discovered in Draco. Like fresh fruit when Harry camped in the middle of the dreary forest, Draco was a remembrance of simple, good times in his life which might yet come again.


End file.
